Nature is everything that wasn’t created by man,
It cannot be controlled by anyone.
I admire the beautiful trees that sway from left to right,
And the delightful blue sea that is filled with marine life.

I admire waking up every day to an amazing sunrise,
And going to bed to a charming sunset.
I admire being a part of a world so bright,
But wait,
I can’t forget about the night, the moon, and the stars that are ever so bright.

I admire the cool breeze giving me goosebumps.
I admire the gentle flowing of rivers and waterfalls that makes me meditate,
It reminds me to never build feelings such as hate.
I admire how nature takes care of itself and mankind,
I surely cannot tell nature it has its time.

Nature is everything that wasn’t created by man,
It cannot be controlled by anyone.
I admire that nature is always going to be there,
And because of that,
I admire the fact that nature truly do care.

Sade Rowland

There's an old forgotten cemetery
just through the woods we used to pretend was Narnia
when we were young.
Defaced and orphaned, it sleeps.
An early morning fog hovers
lazily atop browning blades of grass.

The headstones not repurposed into gravel and firewood by
bored teens read numbers that speaker much louder
than the names above.
1937-1939.
1943-1944.
1948-1953.

I can see it--
pink, chubby legs stuffed into tiny dress slacks;
soft eyelashes kissed for the last time
before the waves of dirt storm the beach
of a casket much too small to seem real.

*

I wonder if your mother knew
that this place would fade from memory.
That it would dry and shrivel from neglect and indifference.
That you would inspire poetry,
Rowland


*how many baby boomers never bloomed--
their escape from the womb punished too soon
by a God with whom no take backs isn't a rule?

Elaine sat in class.
She'd seen John
on the bus, but he
had not looked over

at her, but gazed out
the window, sitting
beside the boy Trevor.
She looked back and

he was sitting at back
of class with a boy
called Rowland, he
looking at some book

the boy was showing him.
Once the pupils were
all there Miss G took
the register calling out

the names. Elaine wished
John was beside her at her
desk; wished he was talking
to her not the Rowland boy.

She sat uneasy, her body
plumpish, her glasses smeary
needing cleaning. Miss G
talked about music; about

Mozart; about his piano
works and put on a LP and
the pupils sat arms folded
or hands over faces listening

-or not- to the unfolding
Mozart music piece. Her sister
talked of boys over breakfast;
what so and so had done and

where and their mother had said
NOT AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE
loudly but did boys really sniff
after girls as her sister had said?

Elaine never heard John sniff her.
He had kissed her that day, but
not sniffed-thank God- and she looked
at Miss G as the music played away.

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate,
I saw an aged, aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said.
"And how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

He said, "I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat;
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men," he said,
"Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread--
A trifle, if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"
And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale;
He said, "I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar Oil--
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a way
To feed one's self on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue,
"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
"And what it is you do!"

He said, "I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for *****;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of hansom-cabs.
And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
"By which I get my wealth--
And very gladly will I drink
Your honor's noble health."

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know--
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo--
That summer evening long ago,
A-sitting on a gate.

It wasn't until Rowland
poked my elbow
in music class and said
hey Benny
look at the titless
one at the front
with the blonde ******

I looked to where
his finger pointed
that I noticed Yochana
for the first time
sitting at the front of class
with a blonde girl
who was shorter
but that hardly
made her a ******

-Rowland and his humour-

I studied her as Miss G
talked about Schubert
and his music
and his life

I noted the thinness
of her body

- Yochana's not
Miss G's-

the black hair
smooth and shiny
and I never thought
about her titlessness
at time but something
about her caught my eye

later after the kissing
on the cheek thing
and the day after
I kissed her hand
I waited for her
at the end of biology class
when she came out
with her friend
the blonde haired Angela

-Rowland went onto
the tuck shop
and then to
morning recess-

when she saw me there
and I smiled
she shooed her friend off
and waited by the wall

she said
are you waiting for me?

shouldn't I?

why would you?

why not?

do you always answer
questions with a question?

do you?

she smiled
and looked me
in my hazel eyes
what did you want?
she asked

to talk with you
I said

is that all?

anything else
on offer?

what other else?

I don't know yet
but I'm sure
I can think
of something
I said

I'm sure you can
she said
is that it?

are you in a rush?

my friend's waiting for me
she replied

can't your girlfriend
wait a bit longer?

she'd not my girlfriend
she's a friend
who is a girl
she said defensively

I dreamed of you
last night
I said

did you?

no you wouldn't let me

let you what?

Miss G passed us by
and walked down
the corridor
giving us
a backward stare

kiss you
I said

shame
Yochana said

yes it was
I said

we stood in the corridor
a few seconds in silence
kids passing by

you kissed my hand
the other day
isn't that enough?
she said

no
a glimpse of heaven
isn't enough
until you get there
I said

she looked past me
then at the kids
passing by

not here
maybe lunch time
some place quiet
we can maybe kiss
she said

then touching
my hand briefly
she walked off
down the corridor

and I watched her going
with a kind of yearning
my inner soul
and my body
burning.

A famous ship that set sailed
The name “Titanic” a cruise liner marked for preserver, but something down the line failed
The Titanic made it’s way over the seas
Yet on the deck the passengers were treated to an endless breeze
As the music played an elegant melody
The feeling of majestic royalty within red carpet hospitality
This was the first of the Titanic voyage
History in the making for sure
But will the Titanic reach destined shore?
A final night that everyone narrates and regrets
As the doomed cruise liner continued on the waves
Disaster struck with thoughts on did the waves behave
Panic was among the travelling passengers
The passengers being distinguished in the category of who’s who
There was a special passenger and I will give you a clue
The insignia of R.H.
I didn’t give the last name as I am trying to see if you figured out what R.H. stands for
You will be surprised in galore
The passenger was Rowland Hussey Macy
The name associates with MACY’S DEPARTMENT STORE
A store you probably shop today
But Mr. Macy perished on board the ship “Titanic”
Yet he was a man of the seas by way of Merchant ****** from Nantucket
But the Titanic was constructed to be unsinkable
However the situation does make one think as what really happened on the Titanic?
A mystery of the seven seas
Let your mind wander but feel at ease
All the passengers perished, and their soul’s went to thee.

'Haddock's Eyes' or 'The Aged Aged Man' or
'Ways and Means' or 'A-Sitting On A Gate'

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

He said 'I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat;
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,' he said,
'Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread--
A trifle, if you please.'

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That it could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, 'Come, tell me how you live!'
And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale;
He said, 'I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze.
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar Oil--
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.'

But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue;
'Come, tell me how you live,' I cried
'And what it is you do!'

He said, 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for *****;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of hansom-cabs.
And that's the way' (he gave a wink)
'By which I get my wealth--
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honor's noble health.'

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know--
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo--
That summer evening long ago
A-sitting on a gate.

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said,
"And how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

He said, "I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men," he said,
"Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread—
A trifle; if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"
And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, "I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar-Oil—
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
"And what it is you do!"

He said, "I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for *****;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of hansom-cabs.
And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
"By which I get my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's noble health."

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo—
That summer evening long ago
A-sitting on a gate.

I'll tell thee everything I can:
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.

'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head,
Like water through a sieve.
He said, 'I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men,' he said,
'Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread --
A trifle, if you please.'
But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.

So having no reply to give
To what the old man said, I cried
'Come, tell me how you live!'
And thumped him on the head.
His accents mild took up the tale:

He said 'I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar-Oil --
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.'

But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day '
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
'Come, tell me how you live,' I cried,
'And what it is you do!'

He said, 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for *****:
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
And that's the way' (he gave a wink)
'By which I get my wealth --
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's noble health.'

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know --
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo-
That summer evening long ago,
A-sitting on a gate.

Fair insect! that, with threadlike legs spread out,
  And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing,
Does murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about,
  In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing,
And tell how little our large veins should bleed,
Would we but yield them to thy bitter need.

Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse,
  Full angrily men hearken to thy plaint;
Thou gettest many a brush, and many a curse,
  For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint:
Even the old beggar, while he asks for food,
Would **** thee, hapless stranger, if he could.

I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween,
  Has not the honour of so proud a birth,--
Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green,
  The offspring of the gods, though born on earth;
For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she,
The ocean nymph that nursed thy infancy.

Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung,
  And when, at length, thy gauzy wings grew strong,
Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung,
  Rose in the sky and bore thee soft along;
The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way,
And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay.

Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence
  Came the deep murmur of its throng of men,
And as its grateful odours met thy sense,
  They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen.
Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight
Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight.

At length thy pinions fluttered in Broadway--
  Ah, there were fairy steps, and white necks kissed
By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray
  Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist;
And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin,
Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin.

Sure these were sights to touch an anchorite!
  What! do I hear thy slender voice complain?
Thou wailest, when I talk of beauty's light,
  As if it brought the memory of pain:
Thou art a wayward being--well--come near,
And pour thy tale of sorrow in my ear.

What sayst thou--slanderer!--rouge makes thee sick?
  And China bloom at best is sorry food?
And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick,
  Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood?
Go! 'twas a just reward that met thy crime--
But shun the sacrilege another time.

That bloom was made to look at, not to touch;
  To worship, not approach, that radiant white;
And well might sudden vengeance light on such
  As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite.
Thou shouldst have gazed at distance and admired,
Murmured thy adoration and retired.

Thou'rt welcome to the town--but why come here
  To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee?
Alas! the little blood I have is dear,
  And thin will be the banquet drawn from me.
Look round--the pale-eyed sisters in my cell,
Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell.

Try some plump alderman, and **** the blood
  Enriched by generous wine and costly meat;
On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud,
  Fix thy light pump and press thy freckled feet:
Go to the men for whom, in ocean's hall,
The oyster breeds, and the green turtle sprawls.

There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows
  To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now
The ruddy cheek and now the ruddier nose
  Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the brow;
And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings,
No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings.

Yochana
sits beside
Angela
her best friend

Miss G plays
Beethoven
on the old
gramophone
piano piece
sonata

Yochana
likes this one
the music
stirs her up
conjures up
images
desires

Angela
looks behind
at the back
of the class

she sees them
the two boys
sitting bored
eyeing her

Rowland pokes
out his tongue
but Benny
has that smile
that hair quiff

how is she
he lip talks
Yochana?

she turns back
to the front

he's looking
she informs
Yochana
that Benny

I don't care
about him
Yochana
says softly
(not wanting
to disturb
Beethoven)

but she does
she senses
his hazel
eyes touching
her body

bringing out
hot flushes
distracts her
emotions
from music

Beethoven
(poor Ludwig)
pushed aside

and she feels
Benny’s eyes
hazel warm
look inside.

To you Kelly,
bravo for your success
just as much as newly
reminding little ol me
of the finest in even newly
and teaching me him
to read a poem by Sherry
you smell so good.
your regure is exquisite
and you're probably at home
in the hood.
Your face has such grace
you as witt just wouldn't roam
and you probably know what is a kirutz.
you're such a pretty girl
I'd love to smooch with you
without haste
love, Mr. Charlie Sturies

They were dropped off
at the church
like the others
ready for choir practice

but they held back
and crept into
the front porch
to be alone
for a few moments

the voices
of the others
died down and away

Yehudit gazed out
into the evening sky
feeling Benny near her
you do love me
don't you?
she asked

sure I do
why ask?
he said

you seemed
distant today
at school
and when I looked over
at you in class
you looked away

he gazed at her
outline in the door way
of the porch
you know
how it is
Rowland was saying
how's your love life?
and all that stuff
and I was trying
to make it seem
I didn't have one
and wanted
just be free
of his words
and jest
I guess

she looked back
at him
aren't I worth
getting jest about?
if you loved me
it wouldn't matter
she said

I know
you're right
but us guys
are stupid at times
we don't think
in your league

girls like
to be seen
to be loved
not just words
she said

a bell rang
from the tower

must go
she said

wait
he said
look I’m sorry
I made a mistake
I do love you
and it's more
than words

she walked out
of the porch
and into the evening
semi-dark
looked at the stars
and moon

the next time
I look at you
in class
at least smile
at me
she said

sure I will
he said

she kissed his cheek
and ran off
around the back

and he stood
watching the moon
and stars

and her footsteps
faded into the night
and he thought
she's right.

Does anybody know what the ship “Emily Morgan” is?
Think hard as I might be giving a Quiz
The ship is of a Merchant Vessel
But someone famous you know was part of this ship
However, here’s a tip
It’s a famous store name in Herald Square
The name is advertised regularly on the air
The man’s name is R.H. Macy
But here is the full name Rowland Hussey Macy
Mr. Macy was a Merchant ****** from Nantucket in Cape Cod, MA
If you are or were a Macy’s shopper, I am sure you didn’t know that being part of Macy’s Heritage
But I wanted to share being my privilege
So set sail was how Mr. Macy ventured
But it was the mightier the storm, the wonders of the adventure
Mr. Macy was often guided on the Emily Morgan using his own initiative
He sailed on the seas of Cape Code, but New Bedford, MA being one of his ports
So the Emily Morgan was a ship with a Macy’s Department Store mission
Mr. R.H. Macy was a Merchant ****** that made it happen.

The year: 1921.
The date: the 31st of May.
A White lynch mob gathered at
The Tulsa courthouse late that day.

The goal: to lynch a nineteen-year-old
Black man, who'd been accused of assault,
Perpetuating the racist idea
That Black men are guilty by default.

The man, **** Rowland, had been accused
Most likely because of a misunderstanding.
Nevertheless, the angry mob--
Thirsty for blood--showed up demanding

To take the law into its own hands.
The news spread; the mob grew in size.
Some Blacks--among them some veterans--came
To stop the lynching. Not a surprise.

All of a sudden, shots were exchanged.
A few people died on the spot.
The group of Blacks retreated while
Rumors flourished and tempers grew hot.

The African-Americans lived
In a bustling district called Greenwood. Its fame
Was rapidly spreading; America's Black
Wall Street was its popular name.

Mobs rampaged through Greenwood streets,
Setting businesses on fire,
Looting homes and murdering people.
Rumors and hatred stoked their ire.

Firefighters, who rushed to the scene,
Were under attack and forced to flee.
For eighteen hours angry White mobs
Carried out their ****** spree.

At least thirty-five city blocks
Lay in ruins on June 1st.
Of low points in American history,
This has to be one of the worst.

It's hard to know how many people
Died, for numbers were underreported.°
Historians are grappling still
With information that's been distorted.

Thousands of people were homeless, for over
Twelve hundred homes had been destroyed.
A once thriving, exciting district
Became a charred, horrendous void.

The massacre was not unique;
Others have happened here as well.
The country--though great in many respects--
It has other ghastly stories to tell.

Time does not erase the past.
Don’t let memories become obscure.
We must work together so such
Atrocities never reoccur.

-by Bob B (5-31-21)

°Initially, the state reported 36 deaths. Historians say the death toll was much higher, from 150 to 300 people.

Living real life on Miracle on 34th
It was that inspiration that carried me forth
Macy’s employees were like a family to me
It was after achieving 38 Years you see
I was laid off on June 25, 2020
Yet, I am proud in what I achieved
Laid-Offs are really nothing to talk about, but I am relieved
Two Top Former Executives were my Mentors
They helped me conquer and I saw
My experience within the Corporate Circle was a soar
Imagine, I am part of Macy’s history
I was a star on Broadway
My name within an enterprising name
Legacy being part of the Retail game
Associates and there are many, I will always remember
Laughter still ever after
I worked in numerous departments
In guess you haven’t figured what RH stands for in Macy’s
It is Rowland Hussey Macy, a former Merchant ****** and who was from Nantucket, MA, Cape Cod
So Macy’s farewell
Your stories will always be my tell
An adventure a waits and will be swell
You were part of my life